Across the border

I flew from Francistown, having been transported to the airport by yet another kind member of the Book Club, this time a most charming Finnish lady, who first of all took me for a coffee in a delightful corner of Francistown, where we sat outside on a deck, watching the world pass by. Everyone seemed to pass by, and most of them knew her and stopped for a chat. Lovely, warm friendships that cannot be faked at all. The airport is a long low building, with the tiniest check in desk, but most people seem to stand just outside the building (airside!) to keep cool. I was seated next to a banker who visits all his companies overseas banks, and we chatted none stop for the hour it took to fly down to Gaborone. He was on his way home to Chenai, India, via Dubai. I asked him how the recovery was going after the Tsunami, and he was very enlightening. All the money that had been promised in the immediate aftermath of the Tsunami just had not been distributed to the people who needed it most - 'diverted to where it should never go' was his assessment. He had a lot to say about the misappropriation of funds, and the fact that in the 18 months since the disaster, very little had been done to alleviate the suffering of those most affected. It made for a very interesting flight.

Vic was waiting for me at the airport, and took me back to his house. As he was leaving to return to his office, (and all this about 10.30am) he said that Terry would be ringing me about 11am. I had a wonderful half hour in the jacuzzi, but 11am came and went and no phone call. just moments before midday, Terry rang. 'Well, are you ready?' he asked. 'For what?' I asked. He then told me that he would be picking me up in 10 minutes to take me down to Johannesburg for the night so that I could have a chance to see some of the big shopping malls there. Ten minutes??? My hair was still wet from the jacuzzi, and nothing was packed. I just tipped out my overnight bag that I had brought back from Francistown, chucked in overnight clothes and a change of outfit, grabbed by camera and handbag, and was ready as he arrived at the gate.

We had a superb drive down to Jo'burg (no one, but no one calls it Johannesburg down there!) and he purposely took me passed the shanty towns so that I could see the conditions that some of the people still exist in. There are some new houses built since the end of apartheid, but nothing like sufficient for the real needs of the population.

We were booked into yet another of Vic's friends hotels. Gordon, who owns the Ferndale Lodge http://www.ferndalelodge.co.za/map.htm met us, and was the epitome of charm. He is a collector of Jaguar Cars, and as a one-time Jaguar owner, I was fascinated to see so many beautiful examples of my favourite car in his garages.

My room was near the swimming pool, and the whole garden setting was a sheer and utter delight. Terry's room was further up the garden, and I felt that they had purposely given me the most beautiful room in the place. There were two beds, and a lovely luxurious bathroom, plus TV and everything else one usually finds in luxury hotels these days. The Jacaranda trees were in bloom, and the avenue where the Ferndale is situated was lined with these spectacularly beautiful trees.

Once we had changed, Terry took me off to the Waterside Mall, to have dinner at yet another Irish Pub. The whole Mall is very clean and really immaculately maintained. We wandered along window shopping, then I saw a super shop selling some of the best designed cutlery I have seen in many a long year. We went inside and there was a large display of Border Fine Arts figurines (http://www.borderfinearts.com/). There was a large display card with them, bearing the legend 'Made in England'. I asked the gentleman in the shop if he was the proprietor. 'Yes' he informed me proudly. 'Then may I tell you that the ticket on the Border Fine Arts display is incorrect?' 'Oh, is it? ' He seemed a little surprised. 'Yes,' I said, 'it is actually Made in Scotland and what is more, you may find people would be even more keen to buy it if you made that known.' We both laughed, and within minutes he was busy behind his counter, writing out another 'Made in Scotland' card to put in place. Terry could not wait to tell Vic about this when we got back. Well, I do believe in truth in advertising, and giving credit where it is due!

We bought lots of souvenirs, not least of which was a new digital video camera, and a new stills camera. We also got a great bag of liquorice for the Boys - something they always buy whenever they are in Jo'burg.

After a good nights sleep, and an even better breakfast we left the Ferndale Lodge, and set off for a Mall and Hotel called Monte Casino. As its name implies, it is built as a replica of Monte Casino in Italy, and looks quite incongruous on its hill. Inside it is a breathtaking Mall. Everything is under cover, of course, but the difference is that when you go in the lighting, and the roof, makes you think it is night time. The sky is dark blue with stars, and the buildings are lit as though it is night time. As you walk through the Mall, so it becomes progressively lighter until by the time you get to the far end, it is full midday sun (but without the searing African heat!) The shops and numerous restaurants are fascinating. We ate a splendid lunch outside one of the Italian restaurants, then it was time to get back to the car and start out drive back to Gaborone. First of all, though, Terry wanted to call for some cheese at a favourite shop, and this meant a fair drive to get to it.

Eventually we saw in the distance a huge dutch type windmill, and he said that it was the shop where he would be buying the cheese. Again, the mass of different aromas that assailed you as you walked in were very heady. Cheeses, meats, fruits vegs - it was one huge delicatessen, and what a fabulous one it was. We wandered around for ages before deciding that we had better get on our way so that I would be able to see Hartbeespoort Dam and still get back to Gaborone before it went dark. We don't realise just how lucky we are to have long evenings in our summer, because there it is dark by 6pm, so it does make for short days to drive long distances.

We were happily driving along, and Terry said that he hoped the baboons would be at a certain spot where they always played so that I could see them, but when we got there, there were no baboons to be seen. However, minutes later, we were thrilled to see a couple of Kudu beside the road and we stopped for quite a good while just watching them. The horns on a Kudu must be all of about 4ft long and twist in a corkscrew fashion and are magnificent. It was the perfect end to a wonderful interlude. We passed the border without having to join the long queue that forms at all the border posts (although these are nowhere near as long as the ones are for Zimbabwe - and neither do they charge anything for the visas to enter, unlike Zimbabwe).

My last weekend was now well under way, as I was due to catch my flight home on the Tuesday following. The Sunday dawned hot and sunny, as had every other day of my stay, and the boys had yet another treat in store for me. This time, it was to take me to Mokolodi Game Reserve to have lunch.